Girl at the Window
by Shadows' Nightmare
Summary: In Victorian London, Seras is raised by Judge Anderson after her parents' demise. Forbidden from going outside, she's sung at her window all her life. This attracts the attention of Captain Bernadotte, who often walks below her window. However, when the Judge decides to marry her, Seras must decide between trusting the Geese to escape or stay trapped forever. (One-sided AAxS, PxS).


Author's Note: I'm sorry for the long hiatus. Fall semester started and my laptop broke around the same time, so I had to use library computers to do homework and pay bills, which left no time to write fanfics. Now that I've finally gotten a (hand-me down) home desktop, I can write again. ^^

This is a Hellsing fic heavily inspired by Sweeney Todd and Rapunzel. In fact, Sweeney Todd has a subplot about Johanna, whose story is similar to Rapunzel's. Joanna is a beautiful young woman with long blonde hair and a gorgeous singing voice. She's been locked away by an oppressive guardian and so passes her time looking and singing out her window. Her beauty and voice captures the heart of a young sailor named Anthony (of course), who vows to steal her away. However, Johanna's oppressive guardian, the "pious vulture of the law" Judge Turpin, decides to marry her. This being Victorian England, she has no say, so she has to choose between killing herself and trusting a stranger to help her escape. From there, the name of the game is staying one step ahead of Judge Turpin and the law in his pocket.

Disclaimer: I know Anderson is not a pervert, not a rapist, and not an oppressive father-figure. In Hellsing, he nurtures the children in his orphanage and refuses to let them so much as tie up Integra because "we might as well be rapists." However, I NEED a villain with similar characteristics to his: pious, zealous, a "Killing Judge," someone with obsessive and psychotic moments, someone foreboding in his own right (not just his lackeys), someone who can be both a paternal figure and sexually threatening for Seras, someone can strike fear into Seras AND give the Wild Geese a run for their money, etc. None of the other Hellsing villains made the cut; the Major is indifferent towards women, Maxwell is a sniveling weasel, etc.

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><p>Many stories are difficult to start, so we shall start at the beginning.<p>

During Queen Victoria's reign, a young girl named after the queen lived happily with her mother and father in London. Her name was Seras Victoria, and she was as loved by her parents as she loved them. Her father was a respected police officer that kept the streets safe, and her mother was a frugal woman from a modest background, whose good character exceeded her station.

While her parents were both rather strict, they were also very kind and loving. Her father was very tall, rigid, and strong. He always dressed in his smart police uniform, or some suit that was admittedly not as fashionable as those of the wealthy, but still gave him a very dignified air. He kept as much order in his house as on the streets, though this was not difficult since his wife and daughter loved him and respected him very much. He was a kind man in speech and smiles, even if he was stern and dignified in how he carried himself.

From the earliest corners of her mind, Seras remembered seeing this tall yet benign man, who looked so big and imposing but who smiled so fondly. From the time she was too small to walk, Seras remembered playing peek-a-boo, hide-and-seek, and tag with this huge man. Despite his size and demeanor, he was a very kind and gentle, and he always smiled fondly at his daughter. When she prattled on about things that only little children care about, he had the good manners to listen attentively as he smiled, nodded, and entertained her fancies.

Her mother showed her affection too, though in a different way. Despite her modest background, or perhaps because of it, she was very shrewd, frugal, practical. She had no time for fun and games since there was always too much to do. There were always floors to sweep, dishes to be washed, laundry to hang, and a daughter with an eternally dirty face to wipe up. She also had to control the family's admittedly meager finances, and stretch every penny as far as it would go. She was a skilled haggler at market and kept a very clean house. She often made Seras wash when she inevitably got dirt on her dress or under her fingernails, and made her help with chores around the house.

Seras' mother was also unafraid to tell her "no" to a second helping of sweets, or to a bit of dessert before dinner. Seras often clashed with her mother in her younger days because she was little more than a toddler who wanted her way in everything, and her mother was determined she should not. Seras could play after she worked and not before. She could have her pudding after her meat and not before. She could go to bed after she cleaned her plate and not before. And no amount of crying or tantrums could convince her otherwise. She often had lightly smack Seras' hands when she reached for something against her mother's orders, or push her toward her room with a firm slap of the bottom to let her know she was to stay there until she could be good again.

At such times Seras would scream like she was being murdered, kick and flail at anything she could, and cry and curse her mother with every hurtful thing she could. "I hate you! I'm going to run away and join the circus!" "I'm going to go live with Billy Jones' family! His mother lets him do anything he wants!"

But her mother would not budge. She would sharply demand her daughter sit up at once, behave this instant, stop making a scene, stop acting like such a child, and so on. Sometimes she would simply add more time to her daughter's time-out, withhold meals ("If you cannot sit at the table like a proper young lady, you shall not have any dinner at all."), or sharply reply that she was not so-and-so's mother. She was Seras' mother and she would decide what Seras could do, and that was final.

She and Seras clashed very much in her youngest days.

Yet, she too loved her daughter very much. Though her husband sometimes worried she was too stern with her daughter, she assured him it was in Seras' best interests. She was a firm believer that too many good children were spoiled by indulgent parents, and that she would have Seras learn to be a kind, moral, obedient, considerate, and selfless daughter who would grow to be a kind, moral, adult who would make the world a better place.

From an early age, it was clear that Seras was not like other girls. She was as small and adorable as any child, yet she was very spirited, obstinate, and rather tomboyish. She preferred to run, jump, skip, and tag over playing with blocks or dolls. It was all her mother could do to make her wash up before going out to play or sit quietly when guests were in the house. When Seras went out, she often got mud on her dress and dirt under her fingernails. She loved to see and experience life, crawling on the grass, weaving through bushes, and run wild with wayward children.

Her mother often sighed exasperatedly from her antics, but smiled wryly and simply wiped her face with her apron, or a cloth. Seras would make faces and try to squirm away. Sometimes she would slip a small pie into her hand to bribe her into wanting to stay, or in response to Seras being adorable. While mother and daughter often argued, there was no doubt they loved each other just as strongly, and Seras often leaned into her mother's kisses, caresses, and embraces; and her mother was liberal with such affection when her daughter was not being naughty. She often welcomed her daughter back into the house with outstretched arms, and picked her up and held her as she carried her back into the house. Whenever Seras was in her arms, she could not help holding her more closely or drowning her in kisses, to such an extent that even Seras wanted to pull away just to breathe. Despite how stern she was about play coming after work and rules being obeyed before personal desires, she herself loved her daughter very deeply and rarely hid it.

When chores were done or the family was sitting by the fire before bed, she often smiled fondly and kissed her daughter's face. Seras often sat in her lap as her mother read her a story or played dolls with her (though Seras had little interest except to make-believe that the doll in her hand was acting out some grand adventure her mother recently read to her about), or talked or sang songs. When work was done she would sit Seras in her lap as they sat by the fire, and she would brush her hair, or caress her face, or show some other form of relaxing affection.

During her father's Sundays off, her family would go for walks and picnics in the park. Seras loved these outings very much. While London is very beautiful, it was at the time a dense, smoggy, cobblestone and stone wall city. The streets were filled to the brim with overpopulation, and the air was filled with smog from the many factories. Seras found the city too stiffling. Their little corner house was pretty but squished in with other small town houses, and it was overshadowed by huge buildings blocking the rising or setting sun. The only living things to see in cobblestone streets were the other children and occasional dogs to play with, and the plants in pots on people's windowsills.

Imagine how much more she prefered the sweet open fields of the parks!

Seras loved how fresh and beautiful the parks looked and smelled. She loved the fresh green grass, the pretty flower beds, the fluttering butterflies. The buzzing bees, the babble of the bonds, and sounds of wind blowing between branches were the sweetest music to Seras. The sight of pretty flowers, like tulips and daffodiles, nodding in the wind was a wonderful sight to Seras. She adored the fields of grass, the flowers and trees, the birds and the bees. She loved running as fast and far as her legs could carry, and sometimes being chased playfully by her father. If he caught her, he placed her on his shoulders and charged around, or picked her up and spun her around like she was a bird. Seras always laughed and squealed and flailed her arms and legs around with excitement..

Her mother was not exempt from the fun. While she was on the whole more serious than her husband, when things were settled she could have fun too. Once the picnic was set, and sometimes after they ate, her mother would indulge her in a game of hide-and-seek.

"Where are you..." she would say in a playful voice, "Where are you? Come out, come out! Where is my little Seras Victoria?"

All right, so she had not mastered the art of baby-talking, but Seras liked it just the same.

And, of course, Seras gave herself away by laughing and giggling, but her mother had the good sense to pretend she didn't hear, and to pretend to keep looking. She even turned her back on her and said to passersby: "Where is my little birthday girl? Her father has gone to get her present, and if she doesn't come back soon..."

Knowing these to be the correct words, she listened as her daughter darted up behind her.

"I'm going to unwrap her instead!" and her mom scooped her up and pretended to eat her up.

Seras laughed and squealed and kicked around, and her mother laughed as she tickled her.

Most of the more proper English men and women were quite put out by such a wonton display of affection. How little they knew this woman was as prim and proper as the rest of them most of the time! Especially when they were at home, where a good example was most important for her wayward girl. But for now, on special occasions like this, even Seras' mother knew the importance of smiles and laughter.

Seras was still in her mother's lap, rolling around and laughing as her mother periodically tickled her and played with her hair, when her father approached.

"Ah, there is my little birthday girl!" he exclaimed as he knelt down with arms wide.

Seras ran into said arms, then laughed and squealed when he lifted her up.

"Daddy! Daddy!" she exclaimed as her father spun her around and pretended to crash her into the ground.

When it was over she could not stand up straight, she was laughing so hard. "Presents! Presents!"

"I'm sorry, my little dear," her father said with a solemn look, "I was not able to get you presents..."

"Awwww!" she she exclaimed, and disappointment flooded her so much she was ready to cry.

"... Because I was too busy getting you exactly what you wanted!" he grinned, and pulled out a cricket bat and a ball.

Seras' gasped, and her eyes lit up and she grinned ecstatically.

"Happy birthday, my sweet little girl!" he grinned.

And so, for the rest of her birthday, Seras and her father played cricket in the park. Seras was bad with the bat, but her father was patient and showed her the proper technique before he lobbed the ball. Seras could not get enough of the game.

Her mother placed a worried hand over her chest as she watched them play. Around the park, she could see people staring. She saw another father playing cricket with his son, and still more little boys playing in the distance. Yet, all the little girls were either playing hide and seek, or doing quiet activities like they were supposed to do. Despite how much joy it brought her daughter, she was rather worried by her husband's choice in presents. Seras was already turning out too spirited and boyish. She often ran about the streets, chasing neighborhood boys, getting into minor fist fights, and often came home dirty from some adventure or another. She also did not run away crying when boys teased her, as most modest and sensitive young girls did, but rather charged forward with her fists raised. While she was a sweet little girl that did as her mother told her (though often with resistance), she was far from the Victorian ideal on shy, meek, submissive, withdrawn, delicate little flowers.

She smiled when they came back though, and draped her shawl over her daughter when she had all but passed out after the game.

"A cricket bat, dear?" she said as soon as Seras fell asleep.

"Yes, darling, it's what she wanted," he answered.

"She only wanted one after she saw that Jimmy down the way had one."

"Regardless, it is what she asked for."

"What she wants is not what she needs."

"Dear..."

"She is far too competitive! She only wishes to out-do the neighborhood boys because they tease her. Far from ignoring them so that they lose interest and leave her alone - as I've often told her to do, mind - she courts their attention by responding to it-"

"Do they make her cry?" her father asked suddenly, angrily. "Because I can make some arrests."

Let it never be said that Seras' father was not protective.

Despite his fierce overreaction, even she had to laugh. "You, arrest a five-year-old boy because he teased your daughter?!"

"It'll put the fear of God - and the law - in him!" he said with conviction.

He could just see the horror-struck look on the little boy's face as he put him in handcuffs. He could only imagine how much more terrifying it would be for such a little boy, being confronted by such a tall, stern police officer. How he would cry and tremble, how he would beg forgiveness for. He indulged that fantasy for quite a few days.

"Oh, dear!" she reproached, "What would the neighbors say?"

"They'll say not to bully John Victory's daughter, that's what they'll say."

She laughed. "My dear, you really are the dreaded police officer of a father," she said as she raised his clench fist to her lips and kissed it. "When our daughter is old enough to marry, young men will tremble at the mere thought of meeting you."

"She will have no end of suitors, I know," he said, and leaned down to kiss his wife. "Just like her mother."

Her smile dropped a bit. "Yes, unless her behavior drives them away."

He laughed, and then said, "But in earnest, my wife, do they make her cry?"

"No! That's the trouble," she exclaimed, "They don't make her cry. They make her angry. She rises to their challenges and tries to 'put them in their place,' as she calls it. I don't know where she picks up such habits, but Lord knows she uses them."

"Ah! that's my girl," he said with pride.

"Oh, John! Be serious. Her boyish ways may seem adorable now, but what will happen in five years? Ten years? When she becomes a young lady and people find her headstrong, boyish disposition too off-putting for marriage?"

He smiled sympathetically. "I take it she did not care for the lace you bought her?"

Her mother had been trying to get her interested in lace and fabrics for pretty dresses. Seras found such things beautiful to look at for two seconds, but they never held her interest for long, and she never seemed to have much desire to wear them. She also hated sewing, threw them down in frustration when her mother tried to get her to work on them, and then ran off every chance she got. It's a shame to say Seras threw a tantrum whenever her mom tried to make her do something she didn't want.

"That is beside the topic!" she said.

He laughed, and then kissed her on the forehead. "She'll be fine, my dear. She is young and excitable now. I dare say in a few years, she'll quite grow out of it."

"I hope so," she said.

He smiled, and kissed her again. "She has the best mother to teach her. I know she will learn well."

By that time, her father had roused Seras from her nap, and told her it was time to go home. Seras nodded sleepily, but then nearly dozed off. After her mother had packed everything away in their little basket, her father wrapped her in the picnic cloth she was laying on and carried her home.

While he did this, Seras' mother became acutely aware of two gentlemen sitting on a nearby bench, gawking at her. They chortled and snickered, nudged and wheedled. She affected to ignore them, though she subconsciously stood up straighter, and raised her chin higher. She smoothed her skirt, and made a displeased frown to show she was too disgusted and dignified for such things.

Seras' mother was, unfortunately, not new to these encounters. Despite her humble origins and her middle class marriage, she was a very beautiful woman with a very dignified air. She had the same blonde hair and deep blue eyes that she passed onto her daughter. Also soft pale skin, and very handsome features.

Despite her worries of Seras failing to live up to the Victorian ideal of soft femininity, she herself did not fit the "angel of the house" ideal that most Victorian women sought. Seras' mother did not come across as innocent, virginal, or infantile in any sense. While polite Victorian society wanted women to retain the air of childlike innocence of early childhood even after marriage and childbirth, as best as they were able, Seras' mother had retained no such thing. She had lost such innocence from the trials and hardships of her own lower-middle class adolescence. She was a woman through and through; a shrewd, frugal, and virtuous woman.

She was lucky to find John, who shared her values on order and structure, and who loved her despite not being the childish innocent that most men sought.

Yet, now that she was married, it seemed her strictness attractive in a way that it never was back when she was a maiden. Perhaps it was because of this beautiful appearance and womanly charm that Seras' mother found herself on the receiving end of somewhat frequent harassers. They were not enough to alarm her, even though she was the wife of a police officer, but they were enough to turn her sour the moment she saw or heard them. She was annoyed that she received no such attention when she was young and unmarried, but now that she was a respectable young wife with a daughter to set an example for, now these men harassed her?

Poor innocent Seras was oblivious to it all.

Several days leading up to the tragedy, Seras' parents behaved in such a way that, in hind sight, if she could remember, they could have given warning to the dangers ahead. Seras' mother warned her father to be careful as he set out for work every day. As she straightened his tie and bid him goody bye from the door, she reminded him that these criminal types were not to be trusted. He told her that he knew very well, but she reminded him just the same and ordered him sternly to return home safely. He replied that he would rather carelessly.

Seras often went out to play as usual, though this time her mother warned her not to stray too far from the house. When Seras mother came to call her in one sunset, some gentlemen were standing near the house. When her mother came by, they called out to her and started talking to her. Seras did not understand what they were saying, but they seemed to offer her mother something nice.

"Oh, for God's sake, gentlemen!" her mother exclaimed, "I have a daughter!"

And she picked Seras up and took her inside.

"What did they want, mummy?" Seras asked when they were inside.

Her mother was making bread with dinner, even though they could buy it, and she was using the leftover dough to make cookies.

"Oh, I don't know," she said irritably. "I'm a married woman. What _could_ they want?"

But she gave Seras the bowl and spoon so she could lick the leftover cookie dough, and the little girl thought no more of it.

Her mother frowned as she looked out the window, but allowed herself smiled fondly as she watched her daughter happily eat.

If you have seen or read Hellsing, you can imagine what happens next. One night, two robbers came into their house and shot her father point-blank in the forehead when he went to answer the door. Seras Victoria saw the whole thing from her bedroom doorway. She had gotten up to see who it was and what the ruckus was about. Blood splattered her face, and all she could do was stare in blank shock. The horror finally seeped in as the hooligans began to laugh, mock and jeer over her father's corpse, and it was all she could do not to whimper and wail over what she had seen.

Her mother stole behind her, picked her up, and carried her to a nearby wardrobe.

The robbers in the other room started taunting, calling out for the "little missus" to come out, come out, wherever she was.

"Oy! Missy! We know you're in here!"

"Don't make us come find you!"

"Listen to me very carefully, Seras," she said in her sternest voice. "If you ever listened to me, if you are ever going to listen to me, you must do exactly as I say right now: Stay in here. No matter what. Do not come out for anything. Do you understand?"

And she shut the door.

"Mum!" Seras exclaimed, but it was too late. She was alone in the dark, with nothing but a cold, hard, flat wooden door where her warm, kind, loving mother used to be. "Muuuum!" she wailed.

She couldn't remember if she heard fighting, arguing, or rustling beforehand. She never could, even before the trauma eventually subsided from her mind. All she knew was that when she heard the three shots, she was again silenced into numb horror.

"Stay in here," her mother had said. Never one to obey her mother, Seras looked out into the drawing room, and saw... saw...

You can imagine the rest for yourself.

After the incident, Seras was left orphaned and alone. She had no grandparents, uncles, aunts, or even cousins to take her in. Her mother's family wanted nothing to do with her. Her father's only brother had died a year before, and so she had nothing. Her father was well-liked and well-respected among the police officers and those in the courts, but no one wanted to take her in. Though they had smiled and clapped his back with a friendly hand when he was alive, no one wanted to take in his only daughter when he was dead.

Seras frowned a cold, dead frown. Her face was rigid as stone, yet a hot spring of tears dripped down her face. She saw it as a betrayal.

She was traumatized from the incident, which only made her haunted and violent. Most everyone was unnerved just from looking at her, never mind seeing or hearing of how she behaved. They said they saw only blank rage in her eyes, and that talking to her was like talking to a brick wall. She did not smile, speak, or engage with anyone. She looked upon all the grown ups as she would look upon those who murdered her family.

Still, she was John Victory's daughter, and John and his wife had been murdered in their own home. It was more out of respect for him than pity for his daughter that they brought Seras to the police and court officers to try to see who might take her in. Despite their love for her father, most of the police officers winced and averted their eyes on seeing her, and most wanted her nowhere near their own wives and children. Some of them feared she would murder them in their sleep or burn the house down.

It would have been the orphanage for her, where she would have toiled away in an assembly line for the rest of her over-worked, under-fed, miserable little life, had not one man stepped forward.

The Judge overlooking her case curled his lip in disgust. "And not a single one of you wish to take in his little girl?"

Some of the cops shook their heads, others gave half-hearted excuses. The Judge scoffed and wanted to hear none of it.

Seras kept looking down at her desk, not knowing or caring what her fate was to be.

Judge Alexander Anderson, also known as "Killing Judge Anderson" and "Off With His Head Anderson" because he always gave the harshest penalty to every criminal presented before him, who often presided over the criminals that Seras' father arrested and brought to court, and who often saw her father in and around the courthouse, took great pity on the girl and decided to take her in and raise her as his own.

Seras at at the defendant's court table with a sour face and blank eyes, scowling at nothing, when she felt a great shadow fall over her. She looked up to see a great looming giant of a man leaning over from the Judge's podium. He was obscenely tall and sturdy with round glasses, and a large square jaw. He wore the traditional white judge's wig and black robes, but when he removed his wig and robes at the end of each court date he wore grey coats and grey, shaggy hair silver hair grey hair. The great cross he wore never left his neck. She saw that his eyes were green, his large jaw was grizzled, and he had a great scar on one side of his cheek.

He smiled benevolently down on her, but even from where she stood Seras felt he gave a definitive air of great power and consequence. His looming figure seemed vaguely dangerous, and his great shadow that fell over her seemed vaguely sinister. Shadows covered his entire figure except for the glint off his round eyeglasses and the silver cross around his neck. She did not smile back.

He leaned over the desk and said to her in his kindest and gentlest voice. "How would you like to come and live with me, little lady? I live in a nice house, where we pray to God and praise the Lord every day. You will have nice clothes, eat good meals, and live with the schedule all children need."

Seras did not look up or smile. To most eyes, she did not appear to hear him.

The gentlemen of court listened to this with grave consternation.

"But Judge Anderson, do you think this a wise choice? Considering what she's been through..."

No one wanted to look the girl in the eyes as he said it. Even the man himself shuddered and looked away when he chanced to sneak a peek at the girl.

But the Judge was not daunted. "Want of a firm hand" was what the girl needed, he said. He felt that strong rules and the fear of God could make the girl behave again.

Seras gave no indication that she noticed these new changes in her life, other than she glared up at him at one point, then pursed her lips and looked away.

Seras was still traumatized over the murder of her father and rape of her mother. She was moody, sullen, stubborn, and disobedient. She glared, hated, and distrusted every male of the sexes that she looked upon. She did not like most adult women any better, as they described talking to her as talking to a wall. She glared up at the Judge and his Beadle, and it took years for her not to glare at them as though they were the ones that killed her parents.

When the Judge descended to take her home and she stood beside him for the first time, and found that even when she stood her tallest she did not even come up to his knee, and a single leg of his was as thick around as she was, she felt even more small and helpless than she ever did; and this only made her moodier and angrier.

Judge Anderson's powerful presence was part of what made him such a respected judge. He ruled the courthouse with an iron fist, and returned home where he ruled just as firmly. Seras found that the maids scrambled to get their work done, and they curtsied and fluttered "Yes, Judge!" when they were near him as quickly as little birds fluttering before a mighty oak. Seras found that he was just as stern with her as he was at court and with his maids. She noted that he was as stern as her parents were, but not as kind or loving; at least not to a little girl who believed her parents were the standard of excellence in everything and was convinced that all human goodness and kindness in the world died with them. While her mother's strictness was born to teach her how to be a good person - to grow up with a strong work ethic and helpfulness toward others - the Judge's strictness was to be _obeyed_.

The Judge was very stern, strict, and rigid. He was taller than the doorway, and almost as wide. He was like a great giant, more so than her parents had been to her young self. He was growing rather old and withered, even when he took her in, but he was as hard as iron as when he was young. A pious guardian of the law, he believed in strict adherence to holy laws and scripture. When he saw Seras misbehave, he gave her far more difficult chores (such as scrubbing the washroom with a toothbrush, or polishing all the silver) that she was to complete before meals or bed. Failure to comply led to the missing of meals or refusal to go to bed. Seras once missed five meals in a row, and sometimes found that she had to sit up at the windowsill all night while the maid watched, while the Judge got to sleep comfortably in his bed.

She was subject to his rules, and failure to do so led to her rightful punishment; which he always assured her she brought upon herself.

Not only that, but the Judge frequently told her of the eternal punishment to come. He read scriptures to her every night. He made her read scriptures on her spare time. He made her copy passages of the Bible in her neat little scrawl while he was at court during the day, and then present them to him once he came home. During tea and meals, he constantly asked her to repeat and review details verses she had read, especially about immoral behavior and the punishments therein. He would ask her specific questions, and make her recount the gruesome details from memory. He made her say her prayers before every meal, and at night before she went to bed. He made her say them out loud for everyone to hear.

Seras hated it, but since she hated being whipped or going to bed without meals even more, she complied.

The Judge also took it upon himself to give her a religious and moral education regarding these verses. Once she read her passages, he would tell her what lessons she was supposed to get out of them. Seras sometimes questioned these lessons, or came away with a different interpretation. For example, she did not find God kind or merciful for ordering Abraham to sacrifice his only son and then sent a ram at the last minute instead. She felt that was a _horrible_ thing to do, to even ask someone to sacrifice their only family (she herself was still hurting over the loss of hers), and felt it was a horrible trick to play on him. If God intended for Abraham to sacrifice a wild mountain ram all along, why didn't he just say so instead of scaring him to death like that?

But the Judge would not hear any of it. He got a strange, and sometimes scary glint in his eyes when Seras said something about the Bible that he didn't like. The Judge did not accept interpretations of the Bible that were not his own, or were not widely accepted as the "correct" interpretation at the time. He indoctrinated Seras with the accepted interpretations and lessons of the time, and would not have her come away with any other lesson than the one he wanted to learn, even if he had to keep her up all night, or withhold favors, or sometimes beat her with it.

Since Seras hated these grueling lessons, she soon learned what her guardian wanted to hear. However, she herself was still stubborn, and did not like pretending to believe something she didn't just to make someone else happy. At every meal and tea, they would discuss verses.

"So, what did you read today?"

"The Bible.'

"Which section of the Bible?"

"The story of Sampson and Delilah."

"What verses?"

He made her go back and name the book, chapter, and verses.

"And what happened in that story?"

"Sampson ran around with Philistine women, and one of them betrayed him," she said, knowing by now that this was the answer he wanted to hear.

"Very good. And how did she betray him?"

"She cut off his hair while he slept so he lost all his strength."

"And what did you learn from this story?"

"Not to let anyone cut my hair."

He glared. "That's it?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What else did you learn?"

Seras glared at him.

He glared back.

A silent but bloody battle of wills

"... Not to trust a pretty woman?"

"And?"

"And..." she thought long and hard. "Not to be like those women?"

"That's my girl."

Seras scowled and looked away.

Seras eventually learned that it was just easier to repeat the answers that Anderson _wanted_ to hear from her. It made her very frustrated in her early days. She would get driven to tears, trying to guess what he wanted her to say, and feeling angry that he didn't just come out and say what he wanted her to guess. Only when she made the connection that the most important verses, those of wayward women and their just punishments (Eve deceiving Adam, Miriam receiving the "white flakes" from God, Delilah betraying Sampson, Jezebel's wanton vanity and blasphemy, and so forth) she learned how to give the answers expected of pure, modest, sweet, compliant women.

Seras hated it very much, but it was the only way to gain peace in this house.

The Judge was a rather wealthy man who lived in a fashionable town house on a fashionable street corner on the West End of London. He ran a tight ship. His home was beautifully furnished, but empty and dark. He rarely had visitors, and the few he did were kept in the drawing room. He had only a few servants, but they worked very hard and answered only to him. He often found fault with their work and withheld their pay and Christmas bonuses accordingly.

He fired one of the maids on Christmas Eve. She was a young woman who begged for mercy on account of being an unmarried mother. He replied coldly that it was her own fault for having a child out of wedlock, that God would punish her for her sins, lechery, whorishness, and other wickedness, and shut the door on her.

He then sat to dinner, and lost no appetite or sleep over it.

Seras watched them silently, with an unreadable expression.

He was not much kinder to Seras than his servants. Her childhood was one long series of daily schedules that she was to obey absolutely. Every morning she was to rise with the sun, wash herself thoroughly, join him for a pleasant breakfast, kiss him good bye as he left for court, and then wait silently in her room until he was to come home. While she was still young, she was to read and copy passages of the Bible, sew by the hour, and complete a laundry list of chores to keep her too busy to be disagreeable.

One thing Seras noticed, too, was that she was not allowed to go outside.

The Judge left for court every morning and returned home in the evening, and also went out every Sunday morning and returned in time for tea.

At first Seras did not care where he went on Sunday because it meant he was out of the house and she did not have to sit under his oppressive shadow, but eventually curiosity compelled her to ask where he went. When he told her why, she asked why she did not go with him.

"You want me to gain the best religious education, right?" Seras asked. "Then why do I not go with you when you when you go to church?"

"You aren't going with me, and that's final," the Judge said darkly, with his glasses glinting in the dark, and his silhouette covered in shadows.

Seras only asked because she was beginning to notice that she had not left the house since she came to live with him, and now wanted an excuse to go outside. The Judge would not give her an excuse.

Seras eventually realized the Judge jealously guarded her away from the world. When she was little, he hired governesses from modest backgrounds to teach her basic skills for young women, mainly reading, sewing, and manners. Once the woman seemed to have out-lived her usefulness, he dismissed her and took up the task of educating Seras himself. He taught her to read and write only from passages of the Bible, and had her recite passages. Every passage pertained to the expected modesty of women, the condemnation of sinful women such as the heathen Jezebel, and the Eternal Damnation of sinners.

He taught Seras to be a God-fearing young woman, subservient and obedient to men.

When she was young, Seras listened with an unreadable expression.

Now that she was older, she only had eyes for the world outside her bedroom.

On top of teaching her of the evils of whorish, deceitful women, and of the general wickedness of sinners and the eternal punishment that awaited those that did not obey God absolutely, he taught her of the common wickedness of everyday men. He warned her of the evils of the world, of hungry lustful beasts that roamed the streets so that they could ravish innocent young maidens such as herself. he warned her of the many criminals brought to him in court who beat their wives, raped young women, ran illegal whorehouses filled with kidnapped young women and even children, and other such atrocities. He warned her of all the terrible things men in the world did to young women and girls.

This was not hard for him to do, as her parents were murdered by common ruffians, and her mother's corpse was raped by one of the intruders right in front of Seras' eyes. The Judge often said it was likely they would have gone for her too, had the police not arrived shortly after and scared them off. The Judge often reminded Seras of how lucky she was to get away with her innocence, and how easily she could have lost it if the police had not come. He reminded her of how lucky and safe she was to be in his house, and how easily she could lose that protection if she ever left the safety of his home.

"Do you want to end up like your mother? Attracting the attention of villainous ruffians? Struck where you stand and raped within an inch of your life afterward? With only your loved ones left in the world to remember what's happened to you and despair of your passing?"

"... No," Seras finally had to concede. "No, I do not."

And so, Seras never left the safety of his home. From almost the first day she entered the house when she was a little girl to the day she heard the subject of marriage, Seras never left.

Years under the Judge's care eroded Seras' spirit and stubbornness away. Over time, she became less and less spirited and stubborn. She sat with her back straightened, listened quietly when other people spoke in the room, partook in pastimes befitting young ladies, spoke to him with deference, and when spoken to she kept her head down and her eyes averted. She acquiesced to his every whim.

Eventually the rules grew stricter. Seras was not allowed to leave her room except when the Judge was home. Even then, she could only leave her room to eat meals and drink tea with him while he was present. They used to retire into the parlor where they would read scripture together, or she would sew while he read... until the day an unexpected guest walked through the door and saw Seras sitting there, with a needle in her hand and a surprised look on her face. She was shocked to be so near another human being, particularly a male one. Seras realized this was the first person besides the Judge or a maidsthat she had seen from anywhere but her window in years. The Judge rose instantly and walked the man out of the room, talking in an outwardly friendly but underlying harsh voice, looking between him and Seras with that strange glint in his eye. From then on, Seras never went into the parlor again. Instead, the Judge often came to see her in her room.

In fact, by the time Seras was old enough to start growing curves, they started drinking tea only in her room. She ate meals in the dining room table only when the Judge was home, which was during breakfast and dinner. Without him, she was to stay in her room. At all times, she was expected to be quiet, graceful, and ladylike. Seras often looked around her dark, quiet, clean, empty room with a wistful sigh.

"Now how am I supposed to pass the time?" she thought.

The young girl who used to chase boys around the neighborhood with her fists raised and her skirt stained with rain puddle water that she splashed around in, and who used to look forward to Sunday picnics with her parents so she could run through the grassy fields and burst through the flowers and bushes like a wild animal, felt the domestic life very dull indeed. The room was too small to run in, too quiet and dark, too blank and empty to entertain her just to look at it. She looked out the window at the town outside, at the people running and walking below her. She saw the kids running and laughing and playing, throwing a ball back and forth between each other, or running with a dog at their heels, and she remembered when she was a child free to run around like them, and missed it more than anything. (Besides her parents, but it hurt to think about them, so over the years she avoided it.)

Within her room, she felt like a prisoner. In the Judge's presence, she sometimes felt like she was being watched by her jailer. He always glared at her with a discerning eye, and asked her outwardly friendly questions about her day (what she read, and what she learned) that made her wonder if his friendly exterior would snap like a mouse trap if she triggered it with her insolence. There was something affected about his friendly exterior, and something worrying about the glint in his glasses when he talked about certain criminals in court, heathens in the world, or Seras' undesirable behavior that made her vaguely unsettled.

Despite how beautifully furnished the apartment was, the lights were always dim because the Judge did not wish to pay for the gas that lit the lamps. He also did not believe in drawing back the curtains. The only open window in the entire corner house was in Seras' room, and even then she felt like she were peeping out of the bars of a prison cell.

Yet, despite her own horrific past, the Judge's sternness, and Bible's horrific verses, Seras grew up to be sweet and kind. Her own willpower, more than his strictness and the Good Book's promise of eternal punishment for any wrongdoing, helped her move past the trauma that had hardened her heart. The memory of her parents brought her unbearable pain that almost drove her to psychopathy and darkness, and so, over time, she suppressed the memory. Over time, Seras learned to suppress her tragic memories and became the girl she was before the tragedy. She buried it in her heart like hiding a book in a pillow, and moved about with her life.

She chose to remember the good things she remembered from the outside world. She looked out the window and saw birds singing through the air, the beautiful sunlight casting warm and bright beams over the houses, the people below her window walk and shop and run and scold as they went about their lives. She saw women walking along with their hats and shawls. She saw little girls in short skirts dance around (often while their hands were held by women) with some doll or other in their hands. She watched boys in vests, trousers, and puffy hats run through the streets wild as dogs, throwing balls or picking pockets as they ran. Sometimes she watched street vendors try to hawk their wears; fish here, jewelry there. Most people walked along and pretended they didn't hear them.

And Seras wondered why people would run passed the vendors, for if she was down there, she would stop to see what they had to sell. She wished she could from up here.

From the Judge's eyes, Seras went from being a thin, sallow, glaring little child to a spirited, willful young girl, then finally to a very soft, beautiful young lady. Over the years, Seras' appearance grew from being very awkward and boyish, to more plump and smooth, to finally very curvy and womanly. Her eyes went from being sharp and hateful, to earnest and spirited, to very bright and innocent. Her mannerisms went from being very harsh and sudden, to being almost dancing and energetic, to being very soft and graceful. She was currently the very model of Victorian modesty and purity.

The hardness behind her eyes that appeared after her parents died slowly went away, and by the time she reached her fifteenth year, her clear blue eyes were large and innocent. The Judge was haunted by such eyes. He often saw them when he closed his own, when he lay in bed staring at the dark, and when he looked on her in his dreams. They stirred... he had never seen such eyes.

To the Judge's changing feelings to her changing person, Seras remained blissfully innocent. He was strict with her and she felt a prisoner in his home, so she thought that was all there was to it. He could be very kind and nurturing like a father too, so she grew to regard him as a sort of second father. She had known him since almost as long as she could (chose) to remember as well, and loved him even though he kept her inside. but she kept her thoughts occupied to the outside world and all within it. Despite her tragic past and the Judge's horrific warnings and stories of what lay out there, Seras remained curious, transfixed, and ever-longing. She stared outside by the hour, remembering all she wanted to remember, saw all the good she wanted to see.

Unfortunately, there is a time for everyone to lose their innocence. Seras' was coming sooner than she expected.


End file.
